Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ivy
We’re going to be late, love,” Jace says to Emmy, pulling bobby pins from his pocket, a pink practice tutu hanging from his left wrist. Leisurely, he places it on the bench behind him and rummages through his jacket pocket.
And then, without a word, his large hands are somehow gently arranging and gathering Emmy’s hair into a tiny ponytail, the wisps surrounding her face smoothing under the movement of his palm.
It’s methodical and precise, just like him, and yet, it works.
He grins sheepishly at me when he uses one hand and his teeth to pry open the bobby pin before it disappears into the bun forming from Emmy’s hair.
My mother was the one who always helped to pin my hairstyles for dance, and I’d stare at her hands moving in the mirror’s reflection while we played music on an old-fashioned boom box.
She’d hum along while I sang, and we’d fall into an easy rhythm.
When I got too tall for her to reach the top of my head, I sat backward on the toilet with the seat down.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t do my own hair—it’s that she wanted to spend the time with me.
And now I realize how much that small gesture meant to me.
To this day, I can still feel her hands in my long hair, her mother’s love pouring through every movement.
The fact that Emmy will think of dance classes and remember Jace’s hands in her hair as an act of love makes me ache.
“I know, but I needed to get my things so I can practice with Eddie.” Emmy’s voice is already tired, slower than usual as she lets out a giant yawn.
I hold one back myself. It’s been a long day; we’ve just arrived at Angie’s apartment after the Christmas Eve church service, and as much as I’m ready to see Jimmy Stewart in all his glory on the big screen, I’m more ready to lean my head on Jace’s shoulder while we watch one of the most iconic Christmas movies of all time.
“Okay, let’s go, Emmy Bear,” Jace says while bending to scoop her up.
“No. Miss Ivy,” she counters softly, looking to me instead of hopping into his arms.
“What?” I ask. Jace rises to his full height.
Emmy continues to look at me, a hint of hesitation in her expression.
“You, Miss Ivy. Will you carry me? I’m too tired.
” It makes sense that she’s used to being carried since her father can hold her without breaking a sweat, but I’m not built like him.
I don’t see how I could be as comforting as Jace.
Looking into her sweet eyes that are so much like her dad’s, there’s nothing I would deny her if she asked.
“Of course I will.”
Emmy’s tiny arms lift like she’s going to do a dance move, and she holds the pose, waiting for me to bend and lift her into my arms. When I do, she nuzzles into my neck like I’ve seen her do with Jace a few times before.
My heart sighs. I’ve always wanted a family, and it’s felt so out of reach.
Now, between the two of them, a hazy dream is unfurling.
Jace grabs Emmy’s backpack containing her stuff for the night, but I don’t miss him rubbing his own eyes with the heel of his hand.
He’s such a handsome softie. Angie’s been keeping such long hours at the bakery that Jace’s parents are going to watch her tonight at Edgar’s house while we’re at the movie.
Edgar will bring Emmy back in the morning, so they’ll all be together on Christmas morning.
I appreciate all the steps he’s taking to be a part of our town’s Christmas tradition.
Despite her excitement to show her grandparents her part in the choreography for the upcoming performance, Emmy falls asleep on the way over.
Jace tucks her into bed when we arrive. He leaves me with her for a moment to make sure he has the tickets, and I stare at her little face, her features so like her father’s.
There’s a hint of someone else, of course—someone she will always share a history with—but I’m finding that the affection building within me for the little girl is terrifying.
Yet, it also silences the fears I’ve felt over Emmy wanting me to be close to her.
Maybe someday, I’ll even be a mother figure to her.
“Sleep well, Emmy Bear,” I whisper, wiping a rogue curl from her forehead, yet another reminder of Jace that makes me smile.
∞∞∞
The clock strikes eleven.
The lights are dim in Nostalgia, Birch Borough’s old theater.
The space holds so much history, including the fact that our friend Rafe has played here a few times over the past couple of years, his first gig booked right after he met Sparrow.
While it’s mainly a performance venue these days, when a movie showing is scheduled, the staff pulls out portable theater seats with cupholders.
They transform the hall into a makeshift cinema that holds some of my favorite holiday memories, and they all seem to hover around the common theme of the movie It’s a Wonderful Life.
Jimmy Stewart will forever be my incomparable hero in all his black-and-white film glory.
There’s such an innocence in the time period, not to mention the magic of the music and the feeling of wanting to both change your life and hold on to what’s familiar.
When Jace agreed to go to the showing with me, somehow, my parents bartered a deal out of the owner for two tickets seated together.
The event is usually packed on Christmas Eve, so my family is seated a few rows ahead of us, and Jace and I will be cozied up near the top section of the seats.
It’s the perfect spot for sneaking kisses or for a general sense of privacy from the town’s inquisitive eyes.
Of course, I’m not thinking of the next moment when I can capture his mouth with mine (I totally am).
I’m slowly shuffling my way up the steps to the top section, allowing attendees to find their seats while Jace is at the concession stand getting us snacks.
An animated popcorn bucket is dancing on the screen, but with Jace so near, I can’t bring myself to enjoy it as I usually would.
There are more exciting things to think about.
Just as I lower myself into my seat, I hear shuffling and a hint of a grunt.
Gladys is at the end of our row. Jace, who has just stepped up to it, is uncomfortably pushed in front of her.
On her face is a wicked grin as she resumes whatever mission she’s given herself tonight.
“That right there is your seat,” she says authoritatively, pointing to the seat next to mine, her countenance all seriousness, if it wasn’t for the giveaway of the sparkle in her eyes.
“I know it’s my seat, Gladys.” Jace looks exasperated, and I hide my laugh behind my hand. “I already have a ticket and planned to sit there . . . with her.” He nods toward the seat since his hands are occupied with popcorn and a box of M&Ms.
“I thought there wasn’t assigned seating tonight?” I ask, looking around and under the tops of the chairs, searching for any sign of a number or row.
“It was on your ticket,” Gladys says sternly. “So, I hope that you are intending to honor your assigned seating and keep this young lady company tonight, young man.”
With a furrowed brow, I pull out my ticket stub because, of course, we still use paper tickets in Birch Borough. I find there’s nothing written on it.
Jace, God bless him, looks as though he couldn’t be more uncomfortable.
Although so much has happened between us and the air is laced with uncertainty as to how we should act in public, I can’t decipher if he’s more unsettled by the idea of all the attention suddenly turned on him or the fact that Gladys has gripped his sherpa-lined jacket in a death grip.
It’s as if she’s almost daring him to retreat or argue with her.
“Please, let’s just . . .” I motion to the seat next to the one I’ve chosen, pulling together just enough courage to look into his dark-amber eyes. I’ve felt their intense depths focused on me throughout this entire exchange.
Gladys wipes her hands on her coat as Jace sinks into the seat beside me. In an act of audacity that only our resident fairy godmother could pull off, she winks and hurries away.
Jace shifts, trying to fit his very large frame into the small, vintage-inspired movie theater seats.
I lean away to avoid his knee that’s taking up most of our collective space, hoping to give him more room.
Once I’m settled, I turn back to find him staring ahead at the screen, the glow casting shadows on his face.
They make his already devastating features look as though they’re cut from granite. It’s captivating. It’s heartbreaking.
“Are you ready for this?” I say quietly as the lights dim. My words could have another meaning, and I’m not sure if he’ll pick up on my subtlety or not.
“Always,” he says with a grin.
My heart flutters at his reply. Most men I’ve met found it odd that I like classic movies and that some of my favorite stories are displayed in black and white or in other certain hues that give away the fact that the movie was filmed decades before I was born.
As I anticipate sharing this experience with Jace, I watch him reach into his pocket and pull out an eyeglass case. I’ve barely registered what’s happening before he opens it, and a pair of glasses settles on his face. My attraction to him intensifies. “Uh—uh,” I manage to stutter out.
Jace looks toward me, an incredulous look crossing his face.
“Oh, this is what’s doing it for you, huh?
” he rumbles cheekily. “Just wait until I eat a candy cane while wearing them.” My insides are on fire as he bites his bottom lip, looking away from me toward the blank screen, knowing fully what he just did.
“You have good taste,” I finally say with a grin, and his body melts deeper into the seat next to me.
“I do, especially when it comes to the people with whom I share M&Ms.” He smiles.